He sings out a song which is soft but it's clear . . .

The other night (2 August 2008 to be exact) we went to the Dodge Theater for a James Taylor concert. I will be honest and admit that I was almost more excited about seeing Steve Gadd play live than I was about seeing Mr Taylor. Far back in the pre-dawn mists of my youth I was a fairly mediocre drummer, and forty-five years later I still fall into an almost Zen like state when listening to a master play the drums. Men like Joe Morello, Carl Palmer, Mitch Mitchel, Art Blakey were my gods. Later on I discovered Kodo and Babatunde Olatunji and the wonderfully joyful, mysterious, playful sexy Latin rhythyms of men like Kevin Ricard and Tony Shogren of Sambaguru. I may not have the talent to perform at those levels, but I know the craft well enough to be able to be truly awed by those who do. And Steve Gadd is, to me, perhaps the finest drummer working today, and I really wanted to see him work.

To be brutally honest, I did not expect much. We had been to the Crosby, Stills & Nash concert several weeks before, and while it had been an enjoyable evening it still had an almost mechanical/prerecorded feeling to it. It felt like they were just going through the motions of another night of letting a hall full of baby-boomers relive their youth. I don't remember them doing any really new material, and the arrangements were almost exactly what you would hear on KOOL FM. Perhaps the best way I can describe it is: When you are driving along the twisty roads in the Black Hills near Mt Rushmore there are often views of the sculpture that are marvelous and beg to be photographed. The problem is that when you actually look at the mountain the best you can say for it is that it looks just like its postcard. That was the best you could say about Crosby, Stills & Nash—They sounded just like their records.

Luckily, I was completely wrong about Mr Taylor.

As we made our way to our seats there was some subtle hints that this might not be the tired rehashing of the past I was half expecting. Each performers place had a personalized sign with their name on it. These were not nameless minions picked up in front of the musical equivalent of Home Depot for the night. These people were a real part of the show. The stage had some plexiglass facings separating the multiple levels and curtains that caused a clear and distinct echo of concerts and music halls that may or may not have actually occurred somewhere in your memory. They were lighted with, and became, colors so pure they could have been the Platonic Ideals, which seemed, as the evening progressed, to both ground the songs in the very here and now, and also give them a mystical, elemental feel.

The songs were a blend of covers, some new/some old, and a few of his classic hits. Unlike CS&N most of Mr Taylor's classics had new arrangements. Songs, like people, can evolve and mature and a true artist will, in my opinion, evolve and mature with them. They were also performed with energy and joy. You could see Mr Taylor loved what he was doing and would do it for free if necessary. As a result you were drawn into the music with him. He also spent the entire break between sets sitting on the edge of the stage talking to members of the audience and signing autographs instead of disappearing to a dressing room.

One of the criticisms I often see about Mr Taylor is that he is no longer writing the soul baring songs he did in the early 70s, and seems to be content to sing the works of other writers. My first reaction is, so bloody what? He takes those songs and imbues them with his personal view of the universe—reflecting his own history of love, pain, joy, sorrow, and awe. No on considers Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett a sell out because they sang 'covers'. They were considered geniuses because they gave those songs their own stamp, and Mr Taylor does the same. I found, for example, his rendition of "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" from "Oklahoma" amazing—almost haunting—and up until then I have always found that song almost sickeningly saccharine.

As for Mr Gadd. He too was amazing. His solos and fills for "Country Road" elevated the ballad almost to the status of an anthem with their power. And he did good on all the other songs too. I have seen Steve Gadd, Segovia, and the Modern Jazz Quartet play live. What more could I ask for?

And CS&N, you should either rediscover the joy of music or retire. I already have your records.

踊りうた我世の事ぞうたわるゝ
Bon-dance song/It speaks/Of things of our world.